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User blog:WayfinderOwl/BTM: Who Needs Friends (I'm Rich) 2
The Dark Side of the Fraternity The bell rang twenty minutes ago. I ran down the corridor, clutching my math textbook to my chest. Hattrick would lecture me all afternoon if I was too late. Derby had summoned me to Harrington House for a spot of lunch. That word used loosely. The meal was nothing but tea and watercress sandwiches. I opened the door. All eyes were on me. Including the big windbag. Hattrick demanded that I explain myself. “I’m sorry, Sir. I had a meeting at Harrington—.” Hattrick cut me off before I could continue, telling me that no harm was done and to take a seat. Baffled, I did so. The same thing happened to me the following Monday for chemistry. Then again for English. Ms. Philips and Mr. Burton gave me a high grade for the class without having to take part. Dr. Slawter wasn’t so generous. He gave me detention. As did the shop teacher. Being always watched was something I just couldn’t get used to. Having money had more perks than I ever imagined. Derby had a manicure done, and felt it improper to carry his own books. He paid some kid ten bucks to carry them for him. We walked down the corridor, going towards his locker. “Hey, Josh,” Beatrice called over. Except for seeing each other in classes, we had barely gotten a chance to talk since Halloween. “Hey, Beatrice,” I replied, with a smile. “Never going to happen,” Derby informed me. “She will make your future children look like a pig.” “I’m way too young to be thinking about that sort of thing.” “Young? Hardly. I was twelve, when I was betrothed to Pinky.” “Well, I’m not looking to be betrothed.” “If you want to attend this school on my father’s funding you will. This time in our lives is a transitory state. We must focus ourselves on preparing for our future. Have every aspect of our personal lives prepared, preventing it from holding us back from our career aspirations.” That was a daunting prospect. “Honestly Derby, have you ever so much as played a game of imagination or just run out to a field and sat there all day?” “Why would I waste time doing that?” Question asked and answered; no. At Derby’s locker, he looked to me to take the books from the kid who dismissed. I obliged. Slotting them on a neat stack of books. There was nothing personal in there at all. Not a photo on the back of the door or a single doodle or graffiti. Nothing. As if he didn’t even want to claim it as his own. I pitied Derby more than I respected him. He wasn’t going to change. When he grows up, he will have children. Perhaps a son who will be raised to be the same, and the cycle will go on and on until either a descendent failed to produce a son and heir or the line came to a sudden end by other means. I saw my future through Derby. An old man sat at some desk, my family just a photo in a frame. Probably wife number two or three, twenty years younger than me raising kids less than ten years younger than her. Children who resented the father that was never there. My life behind me, and too late to change it. I shook my head, hoping to rid myself of such horrible thoughts. Allow myself to forget what the future held. Live for the now, enjoy the comforts while I had them. Eventually, Derby’s hold over me would be released, and I would be free to choose my own path. ^^^^ After classes had ended for the day, I had to get away from the school. Pete and I planned to go to Burger, get something to eat and go to the carnival. We walked out the gate, following the pavement towards the bridge. “You know, the carnival is closing down for the year,” said Pete. “Oh, too bad,” I said, with no concern what-so-ever. “Still hate the place, because of the bad date with Christy?” “Yep.” “Then why are we going?” “Because, I’ve been a pretty big douche towards you lately. Having to choose Prep stuff over hanging out. Derby is adamant on turning me into him. Did you know he makes the family staff use the port-o-potties in the park, even if they are assigned to clean or cook for Harrington house?” “Now, he is the real douche.” “Yeah he is. And he wants me betrothed to someone. I’m glad I don’t have any cousins he can track down.” “At least you’re going to be rich one day. I’d love that. Not how you got there of course. Earn the money, and have a big house in the Vale.” “You will get there.” “I doubt it, but it is good to dream about.” Along the pier, we talked and joked. It really did seem like old times. Back when we were part of the gang, and got to actually act like kids. Both holding paddles, Tad Spencer and Chad Morris came walking towards us. They looked past Pete, as if he wasn’t even there. “There you are, old chap,” said Tad, in his fake accent. “We were looking all over for you.” “I don’t have to be in the fraternity tonight,” I replied. “I told Derby earlier, now I’m telling you.” “Oh, you will come with us. Whether you wish to or not.” “What about Girly Boy here?” said Chad, pointing at Pete. “Bring him anyway,” Tad instructed. “This way, he will be unable to bring allies. Not that anyone would follow him.” Like prisoners walking death row, Pete and I were taken to the old lighthouse at the end of the beach. Roughly shoved through the door into a dark room. I could see nothing of it, save for a light shining down on two seats back to back to one another. Pete and I were instructed to sit down, and tied up. Tad seemed to be in charge, to some Preps that I couldn’t see. Hazing did happen in fraternities, this I assumed, had to be part of it. That theory disappeared into the ether, the moment Tad spoke. “I have worked too hard to reach where I am. You will not pull my rightful place from me. Here you will reside, until Derby has given up on you.” Just like that, Pete and I were plunged into the darkness. The door slammed shut and the lock clicked. Pete took deep gasping breaths. His fears had gotten the better of him. I hooked my little finger around his own. “You alright, Pete?” “Yeah… Josh… I’m…. fine…” Pete gasped. “You still want to be rich?” “No…” Pete muttered. “I need you to do something for me,” I instructed. “What…” “Put your feet on the ground flat. We have to scoot this chair towards a wall.” “How do you know it will work?” “This isn’t the first time I’ve been tied up. When I lived in Alderney, we were held hostage on a monthly basis. Only the last time was the real McCoy.” “Okay, I can do this.” “Ready… go!” The wooden legs of the chairs scraped across the floor, towards the wall. Pete’s grunt following a thud told me we had reached the wall. I instructed Pete to move his foot across the wall, to see if there was anything there. He did so. “There is something here,” Pete said. “See if it is breakable.” “How?” “Kick it.” The sound of glass smashing was my reply. We had to shoot the chairs around, until I was facing the wall. My foot traced the ground, until I found a shape of something that had to be glass. I moved it across the ground, towards the hind legs of my chair. Moving it up the leg, until my fumbling fingers reached it. I turned the glass shard around, scratching the sharpest edge against the rope binding my hands. The last thread snapped, uncoiled falling to the ground. I slipped the shard into Pete’s hand, and told him what to do. The last thing I wanted to do was risk slicing his hand open because I couldn’t see what I was doing. I pulled the rope up over my head. My hands searched the wall, looking for a light switch. Some wooden objects, probably paddles or plaques. Somewhere along the wall behind a bar my fingers found a light switch. I flicked it. Pete was just detangling himself from the rope restraints. I walked over to the door, and pulled at them. The door refused to open. “Something is stopping it on the other side.” “Josh, how do you know all this stuff? Cutting yourself free and all that.” I sat down on the floor in the pool of light. Pete did the same. “Back in Alderney, my parents had to find a new con job to pull. The only places they could afford, were in a neighborhood near a motorcycle club. Just some biker gang who wouldn’t take kindly to anyone trying to muscle in on their turf. They had to sort of go legit. Get fake papers to pretend to be owners of some off shore company. Rent a place in the wealthier part of the city. Every month they would pay some lowlife to pretend to rob the place.” “Shit man, that was pretty rough. What happened?” “Dad would have them tie us up. The landlord would come by for the rent and find us there. He would untie us, and reassure us everything that was taken would be replaced. Dad sold the stolen merchandise, and use a little of the money to pay the rent. The last time it happened, they chose the wrong guy. He really did rob the place. We had to get ourselves out, and flee in the middle of the night. I found out about two weeks ago, that the landlord was Derby’s father.” “Well, you never have to deal with any of that again.” “Yeah, you’re right.” I wasn’t so sure. Category:Blog posts Category:WayfinderOwl's Fanfiction